Rainy Days and Friendships
by Crysta1
Summary: Hawkeye is injured while trying to fix Margaret's Tent. Will he pull through? Will the rest of the world if he doesn't? A tale of blooming friendships and hearts being opened to others. Read and Review Please!!
1. Default Chapter

The OR clattered with the usual noise of 4077th surgery. There was the constant rattle of instruments, the orders from doctors and occasionally nurses for whatever was needed, and the steady stream of wisecracks from the surgeon's mouths, particularly the tall, dark and handsome one that stood at his usual post.  
  
"Scalpel, Margaret, and suction; I can't see a thing."  
  
"Scalpel and suction doctor," came the terse reply.  
  
Hawkeye raised an eyebrow towards BJ at the next table, who shrugged. Apparently, his colleague had no more of an idea than he did about what was up with Margaret. She usually wasn't this cool towards them unless her underwear was up the flagpole.  
  
Realizing that he was taking his life into his own hands as he finished stitching the Corporal back together, Hawkeye nudged against Margaret gently, then gauged her response. Apparently, she didn't have one.  
  
"Margaret, why so glum?" he asked carefully, snapping off a bloodstained glove.  
  
"Not glum, tired," she answered shortly. Hawkeye smiled to himself. At least it wasn't something he had done. He didn't particularly want a scalpel thrust through his hand today.  
  
"Ahhh, the ever growing exhaustion. Why don't you take a break and go back to your tent for a few minutes?" he asked. "We can handle it from here."  
  
"Because my tent is the problem. The rain last night leaked right through the hole in the ceiling of my tent."  
  
"I didn't know there was a hole in your tent."  
  
"Neither did I, until last night."  
  
"Ahhhh, I'm getting the picture. Why didn't you get it fixed?"  
  
Margaret rolled her eyes. "Oh, I like the scenery, the fresh smell of rain inside my tent."  
  
"It grew on you."  
  
"Like a fungus. And the guy who usually does this stuff is on R&R for the next week. By then I'll have mildewed."  
  
Hawkeye grinned through his mask as the next patient was wheeled in. "I feel your pain. I'll tell you what. Since I was usually the one who ended up fixing the roof at home, I'll make a house call for you. After the shift, I'll come over and patch up your upside down floor."  
  
Margaret looked up gratefully as the nurse put a fresh pair of gloves on her. "You'd really do that for me?"  
  
"Oh, come on now Margaret, let's not get gooey. Sure, I'll help out. You just owe me."  
  
Margaret paused and looked over at him. "I owe you what?"  
  
"I'll think of something."  
  
Margaret sighed and went back to work. "Puberty."  
  
  
  
"Margaret, this isn't just a hole!"  
  
Margaret looked up through the tear in the canvas above her head. "What do you mean??"  
  
Hawkeye's head appeared through the hole above, laughing as he stood high up on a ladder. "Check for nearby asteroids that may have flown through. This thing is a crater!!"  
  
Margaret shook her head. "Now you know of my torment!" she called back up.  
  
"Ahhh. I feel your pain. could you hand me a nail?"  
  
Margaret walked outside of her tent and picked up a box that carried an assortment of nuts, bolts, nails, and other such items of the brand. "How do you propose I get it up there?"  
  
"Fly."  
  
"Oh, you're a riot, Pierce!"  
  
"I know I am," he answered and then paused, leaning over the tent's top further.  
  
"Be careful up there, I don't want you to fall and go splat all over my tent!!"  
  
"How reassuring, thank you for that vote of confidence!" A moment later, however, Margaret's jab proved to be the painful truth.  
  
Margaret had turned around to answer a nurse's question when there was a resounding crack as the ladder's main hold gave way, sending Hawkeye flying to the ground, not even giving him time to scream. His flight, however, and the split second before anyone time to react, however, gave Margaret plenty. Her resounding shriek of horror brought Colonel Potter from his office and BJ on his tail from Post Op.  
  
"What the hell happened here??" Colonel Potter asked abruptly when he had skidded to a halt in front of Margaret. BJ had flung himself down to the ground next to Hawkeye's limp form, and was now screaming for a litter.  
  
"He. promised to help with my tent.. and then he fell." Margaret managed, before she abandoned all majorly status and walked gratefully into Colonel Potter's open arms.  
  
"There there Margaret. it'll be all right. Won't it BJ?" he added over Margaret's shoulder.  
  
"Oh, he'll be just fine," BJ replied casually, standing up with the stretcher. "Just took a bash to the old coconut, and it looks like he might have banged up his leg a bit, but don't worry, he'll be fine. Might have knocked some sense into him." Still, he looked very pale, and eyes held something like frantic worry. Potter nodded and made a mental note to ask the Padre to thank God that Margaret couldn't see all of that. With a fatherly arm around her shoulder, he lead her to his office to calm her down. 


	2. old friends, new beginnings

Hawkeye groaned and sat up, blinking against the bright lights. "One too many martinis," he admonished himself quietly, rubbing at his forehead tiredly.  
  
"It wasn't the booze, Hawkeye," a voice answered. Hawkeye swung his head around and then groaned as his stomach hit the floor and his vision blurred. But he couldn't place the location of the voice.  
  
"Why, this feels like a helluva hangover," he answered casually, squinting as his eyes started to clear. That voice was oddly familiar.  
  
"Henry?"  
  
"You got it kid," came the response. Hawkeye fell back onto the cot he had been laying on and sat there for a moment in a daze, his hands over his eyes. When he opened them, hoping that whatever hallucination alcohol had dreamed up had dissipated. Instead, he was met with the face of his former CO.  
  
"Am I dead?" he asked bluntly through his hands.  
  
"Nope, not yet anyway," came the response.  
  
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Is this even real? How do I know you're not just some figment of my imagination?"  
  
"Because you trust me."  
  
"That's exactly what my imagination would say."  
  
Henry looked down at his white robes and shrugged. "What other reason would I have for looking like I just came out of the Pink Pagoda's sauna? I didn't dream this thing up, you did!"  
  
Hawkeye sat up again, and his stomach stayed where it was supposed to. "So you're saying this is my imagination."  
  
Henry shrugged. "Well, this is what you thought being dead would be like. After all the trauma, you pretty much figured that it would be white robes and bright lights until you hit the pearly gates. I'm just indulging your fantasy so you feel more comfortable."  
  
Hawkeye swung his legs down and stood up, slightly wobbly but still pretty secure. "Well, it's not working. I've felt better."  
  
"It was worth a shot. Boy, you sure have gotten touchy since I left. And Grayer too."  
  
"These aren't mine, I'm breaking them in for a friend," came the automatic response.  
  
"Aren't we all. Well, I'm here if you're interested. It's not like you've got much of a choice in the matter." With that, Henry turned and walked a few feet down, then stood looking out into the abyss, waiting for Hawkeye to decide what he was going to do next. Hawkeye sat idly playing with the sash of his own robe for a moment, considering his options.  
  
'Firstly, there's the possibility that this is just a booze-inflicted dream. Then I could have injured myself and this is just some sort of odd dream the patients always tell us about. Or I could really be dead. There's always that possibility too.'  
  
With a noncommital shrug of his shoulders, Hawkeye Pierce stood up and went to stand next to his late friend, leaning against his shoulder with his own.  
  
"You're not going to do some odd little "this is the world without you" scheme, are you? Because I really don't want to hear it right now."  
  
Henry smiled serenely, and that goofy look known all too well appeared on his face. "What have you got to lose?"  
  
"If you start with that stuff, my lunch."  
  
"All right, all right. I won't get gooey. Much."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
But Henry had already bumped him off the platform he had been standing on, and they were both sailing quite peacefully through bright mist.  
  
**Author's note.. good so far?? feedback is always appreciated!! I need the pros, the cons, and everything in between. Be freeeeeeee!!!!!** 


End file.
